What is a Pig-Keeper to a Prince?
by Rhymes of the Renegades
Summary: A brief exchange between Gwydion and Achren on the road back to Dinas Rhydnant. It concerns both the future of the land of Prydain, and the future of one man.


**A little something that occurred to me, as I was re-reading some of the scenes between Achren and Gwydion. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own this.**

The wind came out of the east, driving the waves and whipping the the companions as they followed the shore south. But it was a pleasant wind, warm with spring and rich with the scent of the sea; and served only to lift their already high spirits. They made quick time on the coast road, a path well beaten by generations of shepherds and goat-herds; and the chanting of sea birds almost seemed to be heralding the pleasant end of their journey.

Only one of the travelers was of poor spirits. Cheated of power and prospect, the enchantress Achren seemed resolved to bear her defeat with as much dignity as she could keep grasp on. Straight backed and stonily silent, she trailed behind the others; and none cared (or dared) to intrude on her private enmity.

None save one.

"At this pace we should be two or three days to Dinas Rhydnant," Gwydion, Prince of Don, informed her as he fell in alongside. "But I suspect we will meet one of Rhuddlum's search parties any hour, and acquire mounts shortly after." He treated the ancient, proud queen with a guarded gaze. "I will vouch for you if the King or Queen should press for justice, but I expect you will be a prisoner until we depart for Caer Dallben."

She fixed him with a stony gaze, controlling not rage or vengeance so much as irriatation. "I care not for my circumstance as their guest; and I am sure their dungeons offer as much true rank as the facade of their halls," She turned her gaze forward. "It will be the better, to be gone from this accursed isle sooner."

"Would you listen, were I to say you are more fortunate in failing your mission than you would have been in accomplishing it." the prince admonished lightly. "None can court such deathly magic forever, without it bringing their own doom in the end; not even one who mastered it so long as you. Perhaps you can now leave that path, if for no other reason than it is closed to you forever."

Achren exhaled mightily. "Spare me superior wisdoms of the men of Don!" She glared at him with haughty eyes. "And do not think to celebrate your triumph. You are defeated no less than I."

The prince gave no more response than the raising of an eyebrow; and after a moment she continued. "Had I the powers of Llyr, my first act would have been to break the strength of Annuvin, and humble your despised enemy, the Lord Arawn. It would have been a gentler hand that ruled Prydain then. I need not repeat such offers to you; but, as always, great lords such as yourself must chose "honor" over wisdom. Now _you_ will have the Death Lord to contend with; and what I would have with guile, he will take with fire and sword!"

"The mountains will crumble into the western sea before Arawn rules Prydain," Gwydion's voice was calm, but held the steel of a blade. "And you may yet have the chance to aid in his defeat, if you are willing."

"Spare me son of Don," the enchantress shook her head. "But seek well for allies. The end is approaching faster than you may think. Annuvin's servants move across the land, in all the chills and shadows. The Death Lord's reach is already longer than you know, and will only grow farther each night."

"Do not presume us to be blind, old queen," he weathered the venom of her gaze. "Or the spirits of men so frail. There are still many who hold their oaths with faith, and who would rather sell their lives dearly than take the sickly promises of Annuvin."

They walked in silence for a moment, before Achren spoke again. "Your King Math will be dead soon, regardless of what Arawn or any other may do. The power you have avoided for so long may be upon you. But think you the squabbling cantrev lords will stay true, when the Sons of Don are weakened yet further? You may soon find none but harpists and pig-keepers remain at your side.

"Then I shall fight on, in the comradeship of harpists and pig-keepers," the Prince of Don answered. "And think myself truly honored for it."

She snorted. "And with such a force arrayed against the feeble powers of Annuvin, your victory shall be guaranteed." She shook her head. "Truly, what need have you for power I might have offered?"

"I am familiar with your powers, as you know well," he retorted. "And strength for strength, I would still pick the pig-keeper."

Achren's gaze was that of derision; but as she continued to study him, it became thoughtful. "You care much for that boy, Prince Gwydion." She looked again ahead, this time at the companions in front of them. "He follows you around like a dog its master; but I see you do value him. I have thought little of what he might be since I first saw you together at the Spiral Castle, and why you indulge his eager worship. A mere useful attendant, the brat of some honored comrade, maybe even the by-blow of one of your many travels," her lips turned up just slightly at the roll of his eyes, then she turned contemplative again. "It was Dallben who sent him to you, was it not."

"It was more a pig that sent him to me."

The enchantress rolled her own eyes, but continued. "Private, farseeing Dallben has taken this boy in, and nurtured him when he would few others. And you keep him at your side before many great lords and warriors who would gladly serve you." She turned to look at him fully. "What is it, that the two of you have planned for him?" She asked as if he would actually answer.

Gwydion looked up at the companions walking ahead; shoulder to shoulder, as close as friends could be. The footsore Gurgi rode of the back of the great cat Llyan, looking like a clump of lint caught in her fur. Fflewddur walked next to her, patting one hand across her flanks as he told a spirited tale to the Prince Rhun. Taran said something in reply, and the Princess Eilonwy retorted him in turn. By her mocking smile it was probably something humbling; even as she was plainly hanging at the pig-keeper's side. And the long legged Taran was purposefully shuffled a short step, as he kept a pace more comfortable for his companions.

The Prince of Don smiled. "Nothing but what help an honest man might offer, against the dark forces in this land."

Achren sighed, long-sufferingly. "That I might actually believe; such is the choking sentimentality of the Lords of Don." She looked at him shrewdly. "But should this humble help be placed astride some lofty seat for which it is ill-suited, I hope your charitable faith does not betray you."

"Faith is not so much the word, when one has seen the proving."

To this, the old enchantress cared to say no more.

**Please review, and tell me what you thought of my character portrayals, and attempt at period appropriate dialogue.**

**Also, let me be clear that I do not for one second think that Taran is Gwydion's bastard, or related to him in any way. But it occurred to me as I wrote this, how likely it was that some people in the series might have speculated about that. Might be something interesting to explore later?**


End file.
